From The Shadows We Rise
by Mr. Trigger
Summary: It is the 60th millennium , the Eldar have been reborn, humanity has fallen, and in their wake the galaxy has come anew. But some things just never die.


**From The Shadows We Rise**

**Chapter 1 - Void Dancer**

Feel my fine blade against your skin.

Feel the hot steel round of my rail-gun pierce your skull.

Scream for me as I dance upon your lover's corpse.

Fear me, for I am not of this world.

Fear me, for I dance upon the edge of the void.

- Void Dancer chant Circa 011.M60

When Slaanesh died by Ynnead's hands, the Eldar were reborn, they're fertility, culture and technology were rejuvenated. They started to reclaim their ancient empire and laid waste to the lesser races. Yet, The Craftworlds remained, as did the Exodites and Dark Eldar. The Tyranids saw this, and they came for the Eldar. So it was that the sons and daughters of Asuryan called upon the soldiers of Terra for help. Like children we came, never doubting their word, dancing to their intoxicating melody.

They betrayed us - using the souls of brave guardsmen, helmsmen and Astartes as a literal warp chain. They bound the collective soul of the Tyranids to the warp with the anguish of our souls. Then they mounted their own crusade against the Imperium. Three hundred years of war followed, their numbers ever growing. They succeeded, for they had slain the Emperor. The fickle xenos made their way to his great palace, sacking all they could take. The valiant Adeptus Custodius fought the Eldar; alas, they were no match for their sheer numbers and psykers. They intruded up his holy throne room, entering his resting place. It was there that they met true, unrestrained power. The Emperor striped their xenos bodies of their souls, taking them as his own and rising from the Golden Throne, to lead his people to victory. But it was not to be. Five farseers remained, each convinced that they could kill the Emperor… and they did. How is not known only that it happened.

So it was that the forces of Chaos descended upon Terra, its endless cities consumed by insanity, all of mankind's souls stripped and sucked bare. The Segmentum Solar should have become the new eye of terror, but it did not. No, instead the shadow came, and thus the Shadow Realms of the Abyss were formed. For it was in there that we found our next step in evolution. It was then that the Great Outer Gods came to us and gave us clairvoyance. For the first time we were whole, for we are the gatekeepers. We guard the shadow gates and their endless, twisting, divergent paths. We are now of both this and the Shadow Realm, we communicate, trade and fight with its denizens. Our souls, technology and culture is anew, our bodies stronger, our minds longer lived. No longer do we rely on the feeble, weak matter that the un-shrouded races rely upon, for dark matter is the answer for true ascendance.

They fear us now, as they should, but for the wrong reasons. Some wish vengeance upon them. Others do not, for they are thankful, their treachery has given us new life. No, it is not us they should fear, rather our darker cousins. In time, they will see their errors, and beg for our help. We shall happily oblige… for a price of course. We've already had our revenge - we are superior to them.

The Eldar are in the palms of our hands. They just don't know it yet.

**Ivan VI – Ice World – Segmentum Ultima – 034.M60**

Dark Eldar, how they exist is quite the mystery, some speculate that their souls are bound to a lesser chaos gods, other simply equate their sadism to their emotions. What ever the reason, Xenon hated dealing with them. Never the less he had been hired by a lesser Archon to do his bidding. A sanctioned Human, or _Void Dancer_ in their tongue, filled a lucrative niche. Xenon let small chuckle slip, their pathetic race didn't even know of humanity's existence.

Xenon was hired as a bodyguard and a scout. He could not fathom for what reason, the Archon kept a fully equipped unit of Incubi at his side. Maybe it was something akin to a fashion statement - Archon Ireleth was always very flamboyant, he even bore a female name. Xenon chuckled again, the thought of a homosexual Archon was humorous indeed.

Upon a large, grey hill a black and grey armor clad figure laid prone, a pitch black, featureless helmet with a blue visor covered his face. A grey cloak rested around his body, the words Xenon-779 were printed on the figure's left shoulder. A cold blast of wind snapped Xenon back to reality; he quickly grabbed his dark-matter scout rifle, and adjusted his HUD. Peering through the scope he observed the intimidating Yar'vong encampment, mentally making notes of all of the turrets. As fate would have it, most ammonia based life forms appeared to have an affinity for defending bases. Xenon watched their bloated, ten limbed bodies stumble back and forth; their sickly, porous green skin absorbing the sunlight. For a brief moment he wondered if this was how Eldar perceived humans. It would certainly help to explain part of their massive superiority complex. A crackle in Xenon's right ear prompted him to check his wrist device. Lo and behold, his employer wanted an update.

"Reporting in," Xenon whispered.

"So, mon-keigh, how does my prey fare?" Archon Ireleth responded. "Well defended, they have exactly twenty turrets at each geological depression. They also have Ulij snipers everywhere." Xenon spoke in his trademark monotone voice, as if he were repeating from memory.

"Remind me, who are the Ulij?" Ireleth inquired.

"Those short, pathetic, thin creatures, the ones that come from that jungle planet we raided a few cycles back," a new, graceful and feminine voice interrupted. "Succubus Ilieth, I was not aware of your participation in this operation," Xenon replied in his usual tone.

A brief moment of silence followed.

"Watch your mouth mon-keigh; the Cult of Amber Despair does not take lightly to insults," Ilieth retorted. "Oh calm down daughter, our little mon-keigh is simply a professional. My experience with _his_ kind has taught me that they value efficiency. A rather boring mon-keigh concept I might add. Carry on mon-keigh, you have my permission to dismember that pathetic leader of theirs'," Ireleth stated with his jester-like voice. Xenon immediately swiveled his weight to his right and zoomed in on a revolting xenos, it's bulging eyes drooping out of numerous, luminescent eye sockets. "Affirmative, taking shot in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…." A loud 'crack' echoed throughout the valley. The xenos were in complete disarray, their defenses dropped because a mere commander died. The situation would've humorous, were it not for the fact that being shot was an actual danger. Xenon allowed himself a smirk.

Moments later, a giant portal appeared a few kilometers due east. As if time and space were torn into two, a terrible screech echoed through Xenon's skull. From the pitch black of the web-way portal a massive fleet emerged. Each ship as graceful as the Eldar and as vicious as Commorragh itself, "Mon-keigh, you're more than welcome to join me on my ship, lest you want to be shredded to pieces by my scourges," Ireleth's voice chimed with delight. "Affirmative," Xenon replied.

The nano-machines in Xenon's blood started to act immediately a mixture of emotion dulling drugs and adrenaline were pumped into his blood stream. As if from instinct, Xenon immediately ran down the grey hill he had been lying prone on. Dodging the petrified 'trees' and vanadium ore boulders. He hurriedly mounted a Reaver Jet-bike that he had hidden previously behind a small, shaggy opening. Revving up its engines, Xenon enjoyed the sound of his jet-bike's grav engine. Even he, a human, could enjoy the grace of Eldar engineering. But now was not the time, he immediately started to speed around the bouldered valley, to the web-way portal. Risking a straight return to his employer was insane, the notion of being torn into pieces by Ireleth's scourges, one of whom was his other daughter, was not a proposition that he was willing to explore.

Xenon was panicked, no amount of training could keep his heart rate from rapidly increasingly, the adrenaline produced by high speed vehicle he had mounted certainly did not help. Speeding past several depressions and hills, Xenon endeavored to make it towards his ship as soon as possible. Left, right, down and up his sinister craft swayed as Xenon's hands clutched the acceleration. He dared not look back at the carnage behind him, massacre wasn't his forte; he had his share, but preferred to stay away from it. Racing past giant, galloping, gelatinous xenos beasts, he finally saw his employer's ship. Eldar engineering was beautiful, dark elder aesthetics however, were anything but. Red runes were painted along the craft's massive sword like wings and poison green hull, accompanied by skins draped along the sides of the raiding craft, spikes protruding at almost every angle, a plethora of blades and turrets adorning the craft and crazed Kabalite warriors clinging to the raiding craft's sides, their minds consumed by morbid pleasure. By the Great Outer One himself, Xenon already dreaded his meeting with Ireleth. A sudden tug notified Xenon that Ireleth's flagship had caught his reaver with a grav field, drawing him in closer. Xenon let go of the controls and clutched the handle of his short HF sword; if he were to live another day he would need to be on his best guard. Appearing weak would undermine his already dubious position and end up having him thrown into a cell and tortured for eternity, never mind the fact that Dark Eldar could not drink the souls of mankind. It didn't help that they weren't aware of his racial origins.

As the reaver was dragged closer Ireleth's ship, Xenon noticed Archon Ireleth standing there waiting for him, with his entourage if Incubi and Ireleth's other daughter Isesthil, the scourge. Xenon clutched his blade even tighter, he prayed to the Great Serpent that today would not be his last day in the Milky-way.

Xenon grabbed a spike protruding out of the ship and shimmied himself towards Ireleth. "You called and I have answered," Xenon prompted.

"So you have learnt your place, filthy mon-keigh," the graceful yet venomous voice of Isesthil stated.

Ah, the scourge-bitch, there she stood garbed in black ghost plate armor with her long leather wings protruding out of her back as her fiery red hair blew in the wind. "Regulations dictate that I obey my contractor to the word," Xenon replied. "And follow you do _void dancer_," Ireleth jabbed. "Am I to assume that once this operation of yours is over, the return to Commorragh will be swift?" Xenon inquired in his butchered Commorrite accent. "Tsk, tsk mon-keigh, you should not sully our language with that dirty tongue of yours," Isesthil sneered as she took a step closer. "Apologies, my Echelon Mark V translator implant is outdated," Xenon elucidated as he also took a step closer. As if lightning had just struck, Ireleth's incubi formed a protective shield around him with their klaives and menacing, night black, towering armor, their ornate blood tusks completing the menacing picture.

Xenon took a step back, and they dropped the formation.

"I wouldn't be so rash, mon-keigh scum," a new, screeching voice announced. Xenon turned to his right to bear witness to one of the most disgusting, putrid creatures he had ever seen. A haemonculus, standing on all fours with a snake-like spine and macabre daggers for fingers with a coat made from skin, appeared but a few meters to Xenon's right. His scared face a testament to his perversity, grinning like a warp dust addict with four limbs hanging at his sides. "One more step, and I can't guarantee your survival rate will be above 2.3 percent," Xenon said while flaring his souls killing intent. The haemonculus took several steps backwards; the threat had apparently gotten to him. That was good, Xenon now had at least one of the Kabal's major players on edge.

"Hulthrius, how nice of you to join us, I presume that you are ready to unleash hell upon the lesser races?" Ireleth inquired. "Indeed I do, my Archon," Hulthrius replied as he turned on his heels and faced Ireleth. "Ah, that is wonderful news indeed! Hulthrius, you have my permission to take your share," Ireleth spoke as he gestured gracefully with his left hand. "Oh, and take the scourges with you," he added. "But father, surely he does not need our help," Isesthil protested. Ireleth turned to face her I assure you my dear, he **shall **magnify the pleasure ten fold. If he doesn't… well we'll just have to find another haemonculus won't we?" Ireleth responded with the brush of his right hand against Isesthil's cheek. The color drained from Hulthrius's face. "Then I shall father," Isesthil responded with a smirk. Xenon could only stand with his left hand tightening the grip on his sword. "Now go daughter, find that useless Solarite of yours and tell him to prepare for your feast. Oh, and do wait for our _void dancer_ here," Ireleth concluded the discussion with his daughter.

Both Isesthil and the Haemonculus left, leaving only Xenon, Ireleth and numerous incubi. "Your orders are?" Xenon inquired as he slightly loosened the grip on his sword handle. "Don't get too cocky, mon-keigh." Ireleth chimed. "Such reckless behavior is counter intuitive to someone of my profession," Xenon responded in a menacing monotone voice. "Your orders are to watch over Isesthil and make sure that Hulthrius doesn't compromise her.," Ireleth answered Xenon's question. "Understood, we shall work out my payment when this raid has concluded at your fortress in Commorragh. Is this acceptable?" Xenon asked as he tightened his grip ever so slightly again. "Yes, yes mon-keigh, it is acceptable. Now do your job," Ireleth answered, his voice rising with visible annoyance. "At once," Xenon concluded the conversation. As he left Ireleth an object, one he could only describe as a vat with a pink, luminous liquid, flashed before his eyes. Its human aesthetics showing proudly. 'Unsettling,' he thought 'I need to report back to a clinic and get my nano-machines checked.'

**One Hour Later**

Xenon made sure to keep his distance by a few kilometers. His eye on his rifle's scope, he observed the sadistic and insidious carnage – an orgy of blood and violence, a scene of death, destruction and pure psychopathic rage. Orchestras of screams erupted constantly, their high pitch piercing Xenon's skull. 'For what conceivable reason has this come to be? Have they only come for a small xenos settlement on some backwater planet? No, there is an ulterior motive to be found here. Perhaps they are searching for something, or someone.' He thought. It hit Xenon like a battle cruiser's rail cannon. 'They're a after someone, someone that would warrant a raid of this scale. It couldn't possibly be a Yar'vong or an Ulij. No, it has to be somebody else.' 'Think, think,' the word echoed through Xenon's mind. 'No human would be this far out, it has to be another race, its most probable that it's a…Eldar. But what Eldar would be this far out? Is it a Harlequin perhaps? No, Dark Eldar are risk takers, but they are far from stupid enough to dare challenge Ceogorach.' Xenon crunched the data he had as fast as he could. 'That's it. Its probably be a ranger… or something else entirely… well fuck,' Xenon concluded. 'I better charge extra for this,' and with that thought Xenon shifted back his focus on his objective.

Hulthrius and Isesthil were a good five hundred meters apart. There appeared to be very little contact between the two – Hulthrius took to the frontlines like a fly to excrement, his four arms each wielding a wicked blade, slashing like a man possessed. Isesthil did much the same, however, Isesthil and her fellow scourges chose to strike form the grey, cold and stormy sky, with giant grins of ecstasy on their lips. Xenon's HUD was giving constant updates. Without them, he would've been lost. The blood shed was happening at a furious, unrelenting rate. The motions of the Dark Eldar raiders were a blur. It was almost hypnotic.

It was only a few hours later that the raid had reached its climax, it would seem that enough blood had been spilt… for the time. Xenon had no inclination to participate in another raid; he would collect his payment and leave, hopefully. Maybe he'd take a few months off from work. Xenon got back, up onto his knees from his previously prone position, and slowly made his way back to the reaver.

Authors Notes:

While I'm not exactly ecstatic with this chapter I am pleased. I've only recently been trying to find my bearings with the characters of this piece of fiction, as supposed to creating the universe they inhabit. A considerable amount of work has gone into the universe, and only now that I have the first chapter written up, do I fully appreciate the magnitude of the projects I am currently undertaking. I do realize that the pacing is inconsistent, but I assure you that I am working on bringing my pacing up to a much higher standard.

For those of you wondering, the reason why Xenon's employers refer to him as mon-keigh is twofold:

1) Ireleth, Isesthil, Hulthrius and Ilieth don't know his name.

2) They don't know that he is human – If they did, they would freak out. I shall expand upon this in the next chapter.

Special thanks go to Ursakar, MrDarth151, Artark, and many others for helping me get off my ass and do something. I'm planning to introduce some humor later on. Fear not, this fiction will not be straight up plot/action/exposition.

I welcome any criticism as long as it is fair and balanced. I whole heartedly realize that my grammar is an abhorrent mess, as is my writing. This is the first time that I'm writing fiction without set guidelines. Quite frankly, the freedom is dizzying. While I am rather proficient in English, I am used to writing factual reports, as supposed to fiction.

Please do note that this is an AU fiction wherein time has moved on, and the galaxy has with it. I am always welcome to new ideas and concepts. I look forward to your reviews and continuing this fan fiction.

Thank you for reading.


End file.
